He hates the desk, that is grotesque

With all its documents and lists and the screen

Outside the sun, he wants to run away to face the day

Without destroying his way

Hurry up! Don't dare to stop!

Something inside him screams

It's creeping in, it's sweating out

The fear of flying, the fear of dying, a roundabout

It's time to decide, to choose the question mark or to hide

From the fire still burning inside

On the radio, 'though the level's low, he hears The Stones



See how I'm flying it's the call for life

Just pretend your wings are stronger than all the things

That put you down and start your crying



She's through the door of the seventh floor

Her naked body lies dead on the ground

Tears in his eyes asking for the wherefores and the why's

And searching for the pure or at least the nice

Not only on the radio, don't keep the level low, we receive the call



See how I'm flying it's the call for life

Just pretend your wings are stronger than all the things

That put you down and start your crying

See how I'm sailing in the eye of the storm

Leave your fears behind or soon you'll be blind

For the miracle called Life